


Seven deadly sins

by ko_writes



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Bulimia, Food, Gluttony, Lust, M/M, Pride, Sexual Fantasy, envy - Freeform, hematomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3421142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew have more experience with the seven deadly sins than the let on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Envy and gluttony - Douglas

   The perfect way to get over a marriage, cooking. He had done little else over the last few week, other than his job.

   Gourmet food was something of a natural art to him, and he relished in the tastes and textures and technicality. Home made flaky pastry, that could occupy him, it was a challenge.

   He had taken a few dishes to the airfield and was complimented. Martin took it a step further, moaning with the smallest taste; Douglas felt like he was given audience to something he wasn't privy to.

   He, as a result, was eating more. He hadn't noticed until the waistband of his uniform trousers began to dig harshly into his increasing paunch. He was self conscious for the first time in years.

   It didn't help that he sat next to Martin all day long. Martin; with his skinny hips and nipped in waist, not an ounce of fat to be seen. Martin; with his curls and freckles and bloody cheekbones you could use to cut glass. Martin; who helped him see his lack of control.

   His stomach brimmed with creamy pasta. It was making him ill.

   He hurried to the bathroom, knelt over the toilet, and put two fingers down his throat; relieving him of the calories and fat and weight.

   Martin would not best him - soon, he'd be thin.


	2. Pride and lust - Martin

   He stared at himself, shirtless, in the full length mirror. He could count his ribs, his face was gaunt, his collar bones seemed to almost tear through his grey, paper-thin skin and his once bright eyes were dull and swallowed in dark bruising. He was starving, he was exhausted, he wasn't going to ask for help. He was a  captain and a Crieff and neither asked for help; the need and want for self-sufficiency in it's extreme was basically coded in Martin's DNA.

   Douglas had started cooking more, so he wasn't as hungry for as long. However good the feeling of food in his stomach was and how artful the taste and texture; the thought of eating something Douglas had kneaded, man-handled, with his hands, those large hands, while sweating as he slaved away over the hot stove surpassed every other pleasure, made him moan around mouthfuls of decadent food.

   In fairness, the man was a Sky God and he was only human. Humans gave in to sinful delights of the flesh, but Douglas was above him and out of his reach; but every now and then he got close enough to, metaphorically, brush his foot and that was satisfaction than the most depraved sexual fantasy and yet made his hunger for the God's flesh more. He wanted to bite his neck and shoulders, wanted to push him down to the muddy ground, make him grovel and beg for Martin to let him touch him, wanted to pull his hair and lap at his blood - all with consent, of course, he wasn't truly evil. He also wanted to beg himself, his hair pulled, his skin marred, his sins to be punished brutally and yet divinely.

   He wanted the Sky God.

   Fantasies of being bent over his desk in the portacabin and taken, others of backing Douglas against GERTI's controls and the turbulence only increasing the ecstasy of sexual dominance of such a mighty deity had filled many sinful nights in hotel rooms. He wore a silver cross around his neck, but he felt like he in no way should hold possession of it; it had already come so close to being exchanged for one portraying St Nicholas, if it were not for his pride...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be ruining a few childhoods here but St Nicholas, as well as being the model of Santa Claus, was also the patron saint of prostitutes. Yes I did religious Martin, I thought it would be nice to incorporate more religion into a fic about the seven deadly sins; I think it worked out ok...


End file.
